This is the first fanfiction I have submitted to this site, I hope you enjoy it!
Living her Life
It had been years since the end of the war but still she couldn't stop thinking about it, about what had happened and all the people who had died. Hermione had never thought of herself as a weak character, she never had a problem speaking her mind or telling people what she thought of them.
But the war had changed that.
She had nightmares, sometimes couldn't properly rest for days, plagued by her experiences and the demons that chased her. She felt completely alone.
Of course she had Harry and Ron who had shared most of those horrific experiences with her but it wasn't enough. She always had to be the strong one, be strong for them, push them and help them through their problems.
They were so caught up in their own lives, licking their own wounds and depending on her that they didn't even notice her slipping further and further away from them.
Hermione had always been independent, smart and sure of herself, so Harry and Ron didn't even stop to think that something might be wrong with her. Of course she hadn't been smiling much these last few years but then she had always been more on the serious side. Her nose always rather in a book than laughing and celebrating amongst her peers.
Yet even that had changed. She couldn't bring herself to open a book, nevertheless read one. Sometimes she spend hours alone in her home just staring into space and hoping that somehow everything would get better. But it never did. Hours blurred into days and days into weeks without her really noticing. She went to work, did everything that was expected of her, even met up with friends sometimes.
But none of them ever noticed that even though she was present, she was never actually there with them, engaging them. She just sat there in the middle of the crowd, feeling lonely and misunderstood.
It wasn't as if she had tried to make anyone understand. After all the years of fighting and being strong, she simply didn't have any fight left in her. If no one cared enough to ask about her, simply asking if she was well, was she even worth it? She hadn't felt worth it for a long time. She didn't have a purpose, nobody needed her. Never before had she felt like that.
Even during the war and as miserable as she had been then, she hadn't felt this worthless. What good could she do? All of her attempts at making a change had failed, most of the non-human magical creatures were still treated badly and the rift between purebloods and muggleborns was as big as ever.
Instead of fighting for these causes, she was stuck in a job she didn't like, pushing papers around for those who had the power to change something but were simply not willing to do so.
She hated everything. Her job for not getting her anywhere. Her friends for not caring and the world for not being a better place.
But most of all she hated herself. For not being strong enough to get out of her own misery, for giving up and most of all for pitying herself.
She had to get out of this damned cycle, to start caring again and she was going to do so now.
Opening the first book in four years wasn't easy, it took her a lot of strength and courage. And after reading two pages, she had to close it again and gather herself. It would take her weeks to finish the book at that rate but she didn't care. The first step was made, the first step was made into her new life.
A life that Hermione Granger would start living. Finally.
